Xander Harris: Carpenter Extraordinaire
by mahaliem
Summary: Set in the future - AU - Xander takes on a case to rescue a young girl. Now Complete!
1. Part 1

Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire

Author – mahaliem

Rating – R

Summary – Xander takes on a case to save a girl. Set sometime in the future.

Disclaimer – Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon, Fox, and Mutant Enemy Productions.  

Thank you so much to Jane Davitt (whose stories I love) and Alena for beta reading this for me.  Any errors remaining are entirely my fault.  Thank you also to Treacle-Antlers for her constant support of my endeavors.  

_Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. (Romans 12:19)  This is a clear  cut example of the Lord claiming dominion over an area that evil would like for itself._

_                                                            - **Good v. Evil – A Territorial Dispute? **_

****_by A. L. Harris   _

Part 1 

I'd just finished shaping the headboard I was making for a corporate honcho who decided he'd like to sleep at night with his logo hovering over his pillow, when she walked into my shop.  The sawdust was still floating through the air, gently drifting down on all nearby surfaces as I lifted my faceplate and got a good look at her.  From the way she gazed around in confusion, I could tell that she wasn't here for my wonderful carpentry skills.

Gingerly, she walked over to me, her high heels making little tracks through the tiny wood shavings on the floor.  

"I'm looking for Xander Harris," she stated.  

Her voice was soft, but clear, with just a hint of a Southern accent peeking through.  She was dressed conservatively, a high-necked blouse, dark skirt down to the knees, and a pair of shoes that I could tell were some famous brand, but since I was a heterosexual male, had no idea which one.  I figured her outfit cost about what I made in a week.  A good week.  An extremely good week.  She had chestnut hair that fell in waves to her shoulders, and I'd always been a bit of a sucker for brunettes.  

I took off my protective headgear, placed it to the side, and began putting my tools away for the night.  The shop still needed to be cleaned up, and it wasn't too long before sunset.  I still liked to be home before dark.  It was a good habit to have, and one of the reasons I'd survived for so long, when so many hadn't.  While I straightened up the area, I answered her.

"You're looking for Xander?  Well, you must be a real wizard at hide-and-seek, 'cause you found him."

She looked a bit surprised at that; then her gaze swept over me, not having really looked at me when she'd first entered.  I thought about what she saw.  I'd kept in shape, better shape than when I was younger, fighting the years with constant exercise and attention to diet.  My hair was still dark, with no signs of gray yet, and in many ways, I knew I looked younger than I really was.  My eyes, however, were old.  They'd seen too much death and destruction, and too many tears had fallen from them.  

She hesitated for a moment before sticking out her hand for me to shake.  I did so, knowing that she would feel the rough calluses on my palm, which no creams or ointments could ever smooth.  

"Grace Matthews."

"Xander Harris."

I showed her into my small office.  It wasn't much, with just a desk, a few chairs, and a file cabinet, but I'd made all of the furnishings myself, so it was a showroom for my work.  She looked suitably impressed.

"I thought I had the wrong place at first.  My friend didn't tell me that you were an artist."

I laughed, but felt a bit flattered at the same time.  I knew I had some talent, but didn't think I would never reach the point where you could call anything I did 'art.'

"So…I'm guessing that you're not here for specially created furniture, then."

"No.  I'm here because of your…other job."

She glanced around the shop and looked a bit doubtful that I could do whatever she asked.  A little bit of encouragement on my side might help.  

"Hey, carpenters have been known to save the world." 

A small smile flitted over her lips before she started thinking about the reason she'd come to me, and it slipped from her face.  

"Mr. Harris…"

"Call me 'Xander'."

"Xander, then.  It's my sister.  I didn't know what to do.  I talked to Nancy Stevens, and she thought that you might be able to help me."

Ah, so that's whom she knew.  Knowing that information gave me some insight as to what might be her problem.  I'd met Nancy several lifetimes ago in Sunnydale.  When we'd run into each other years later, she'd been frantic, and had latched on to me for help.  

Her brother had been turned by a vampire, and instead of wandering around cemeteries like a good bloodsucker should, he'd taken to hanging around outside her house.  This seriously impacted her lifestyle, seeing how she was trapped in her own home every night by an undead sibling.  When I'd told her how much I really didn't care, she offered to pay me.  I gave her a price of a thousand dollars, and she leapt at it.  It'd been so easy to stake her brother and get paid, that I wondered why all of us had done it for free, all those many years ago.  I'd been doing odd jobs of that sort since.

"A few nights ago, my sister, Lara, was snatched from me by a group of people.  At first, I thought they were human, but then I saw their eyes…and their fangs…  They were vampires."        

"Then please, accept my condolences on your loss."

"No, you don't understand," she insisted. "My sister's alive.  I know it.  You've got to help us.  She's only fourteen."

I sighed.  It was always hard when people didn't accept reality.

"Listen…vampires aren't known to grab young girls because they want to play hopscotch with them."

"I know what vampires are.  I just don't think that they killed her.  My sister…she's special.  She's a vampire charmer."

Okay, hadn't seen that one coming.  For years I'd heard rumors that there were people who could thrall demons just like vampires could thrall humans.  The whole lure of being in control of that type of power had been known to snare quite a few individuals.  Even Giles, in his younger days, had been prey to it.  But these people were different.  They had a gift. With a mental jerk, I brought myself back to the present conversation, where Grace was still talking.

"When we were attacked, Lara tried to enter their minds to control their wills, but she couldn't.  I think that the vampires were already under control." 

In a low voice, so soft I had to strain to hear her, she continued.

"I think a group of vampire charmers kidnapped my sister."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -   

We'd agreed on a price before she left; three thousand a night with nine thousand up front - no guarantees, no refunds.  I always insisted on those last two stipulations.  I couldn't prove that a pile of dust had been anyone's long lost relative, and if I died first night out on the job, I didn't want anyone thinking they could get some of their money back.  

Grace had also given me a photo of her sister Lara.  It showed a girl with huge eyes over a mouth filled with braces. Her hair was long and straight, but that wasn't what made my heart skip a beat.  The girl was a redhead…just like Willow.  Seeing visions of my childhood best friend when I looked at Lara's picture strengthened my desire to rescue her.    

I had some connections with the demon community, and most of them knew not to bother me.  But, if there was a group of vampires in thrall to a bunch of charmers, then I knew whom I had to talk to.  And I wasn't looking forward to it.  

In less than an hour, I was armed to the teeth, stakes in sleeves, knives at the ankles, crosses and packets of holy water on my person, and a Xander-special in my right hand pocket and at the small of my back.  My destination was "The King of Cups", one of the fouler nightspots in town.  Its clientele tended to be mostly demonic, with a few motley humans thrown in.  Supposedly, it had the best selection of blood in town.  

As I entered, I was pleased to note that the noise level dropped, and a few customers scurried towards the back door.  I made my way to the bar and ordered a Diet Coke, and was soon joined by the manager, a vampire named Leon.  Leon was one of the few vampires who didn't depend on his fangs to get him what he wanted, but on his brains.  That's why he was in charge of the club, and why he knew that the best thing he could do was to try to get me to leave his establishment.

"I thought we had a deal, Xander," he said, angry at my presence, but trying to control it.  "I thought you weren't going to come by no more." 

"Hey, can't an old friend pay a visit?"

"Yeah, but whenever you come by, lots of my customers usually end up floating in the breeze.  It's not good for business."

I turned, yanking him close to me, the stake in my sleeve poised over his heart, then smiled, though my voice was low and harsh.

"I need to see her."

"No.  No way.  Last time you saw her, it took me a week to get her back so she was semi-rational again."

"Let me put it another way, then.  I'm going to see her.  Even if I have to walk through a mountain of ex-vampire dust to do it."

Vampires are naturally paler than their human counterparts, but Leon turned a shade whiter, before swallowing heavily, and leading me towards the back.  I followed him down a set of stairs, and through a warren of hallways, hallways that I hadn't been through in ages.  Finally, we reached a large door ornamented with carvings of grotesque beasts.  Leon motioned for me to go forward, while he turned and quickly made his way back the way we'd come.  For a moment I stood there, before taking a deep breath and entering the room.  

She'd been lounging on the bed, but when she saw me, she stood, and a pleased smile lit her face.  Her dark hair cascaded down past her shoulders, contrasting nicely with the long white lace dress she wore.  She was as beautiful as I remembered, and part of me responded to it.  

"Kitten, you're early.  Couldn't you wait for the moon to wail to see me again?"

Too bad Drusilla was just as crazy and deadly as ever.

 - - - - - - - -

I'd been going through a bad, extremely self-destructive period when I'd had my little fling with the insane undead.  Being with Dru had reminded me of home, of good memories and bad, and of all the lonely graves I'd stood beside, watching dirt being shoveled over the coffins of friends while other mourners walked away.  

We'd been a strange couple in anyone's books, me crazy with guilt for surviving, Dru just plain crazy; but for a short time, it had worked.  It didn't hurt that Drusilla was exceptionally talented.  After only a week with her, I realized why Spike had stayed with her for more than a century.  Hell, I was still a bit in love with her.  

Her room was the same as I'd always seen it.  There was a nightstand with candles lit on it.  A dresser stood on the far side of the room where a stuffed black cat held prominence, and there was the bed.  The extremely large soft bed where I'd laid for many nights having experiences that I still could hardly believed I'd lived through.  

She moved towards me now, stroking my cheek with cool fingers before making a shallow slice in the skin.  The rough brush of her tongue lapping at my blood followed, and I could feel myself begin to harden in anticipation.  When her mouth slowly slid down my face towards my neck, I grabbed her arms and gently pushed her away.  For a moment, Dru resisted, and then she raised her eyes to me, gave me a mischievous smile, and slid away.  

Her tongue slipped out to retrieve the lingering taste of my blood on her lips as she looked me over.  _Down boy, down,_ I silently told the part of my anatomy that was making its interest extremely apparent when her eyes fell upon it.  To distract my hormones, I started talking.

"Dru, I came to see you tonight for a reason."

"You always came for a reason, my brave dark knight, but you didn't always know the 'what' and 'wherefores'."

"This is time is different.  I'm going to ask you a few questions, and it would make me really, really happy if when you answered, you left out anything about stars, fish, and Miss Edith."

A small pout appeared. _God no,_ _not the pout,_ I thought.  Fortunately, she gave me a little nod, so I continued.  

"I'm looking for some people who are in town.  Evidently, they have the ability to thrall demons.  They're vampire charmers."

"Ooh, nasty, stupid humans.  Trying to set a trap, but they're clumsy.  Get their foot caught, they do."

"You've heard of them, then.  Good.  Do you know where they are?"

Drusilla was becoming agitated.  She began trembling, and her voice quivered.

"No.  Mustn't find them.  You'll only cause more salty rust on your armor.  Someday, it'll eat through and corrode the tender inside."  

"I have to find them.  They kidnapped a young girl."

She stopped her shaking and stared.

"Is she beautiful?  Dressed in silks and white petticoats, with lovely ribbons trailing from her hair?  Spike brought me a girl like that…years ago."  

Her face began to crumple with sadness.

"But now, there are no more presents for his princess."

Taking in a deep breath, I tried to take control of the conversation.

"Listen, Dru.  I need to rescue this girl, but first I need to find her…or the people who took her.  Do you know where they are?"

"I've heard them.  Calling to unwary fledglings with their siren songs."  

"And where did you hear them?  Dru?  Honey, do you remember?"

"Where the goddess Diana holds sway over the world."

For a moment, I considered asking her again to try to get an answer that made sense, but then I got it.  I knew exactly where they were.  

"Thanks, Dru.  You've been a big help," I said as I turned to leave.

Drusilla closed the gap between us and clutched at my arm, looking up at me with her lovely eyes.  I quickly averted my gaze.  Didn't want to be thralled or anything.

"Must you leave?  Don't you want to play with your beloved Dulcinea?  We could have a party."

Carefully, I disengaged her hand from my arm.  She was lovely and she needed me, and part of me liked being needed.  But, I'd traveled down that road once before, and didn't care to repeat the journey.

"Drusilla, you know that I'm with someone else now.  I love her.  And you and I…it wouldn't work.  It'd end the same way as it did before, with you trying to turn me and me trying to stake you."

Her right hand crept up to the scar she'd left on my throat, and I shivered at the memory of that particular close call.  I took a step back then, away from her, and away from our past.

"I'm sorry, Dru."

It was only as I started through the doorway that she spoke again.

"Remember, my knight, that eyes are the windows to the soul and the heart contains the love, but it is the mind that wraps around it all."

Turning to give Drusilla one last look, I gave her a slightly crooked grin, and closed the door.

- - - - - - - - 

Leon breathed an unnecessary, and quite obnoxiously loud, sigh of relief as I passed him on my way out of the club.  It was only when I'd reached my parked car that I realized that I'd been followed.    For vampires, who are famous for their silent stalking, they seemed fairly clumsy at it.  I turned to face the four of them as they neared.

"Look, fellows.  I already gave to the Red Cross this month, so why don't you just go back inside the club, have yourself a nice mug of O negative, and forget all about this?"

They didn't say anything; no banter, no explanation.  When I pulled my Xander-special from my coat pocket, they didn't even acknowledge it.  Usually, I get a laugh about how guns and bullets don't work on vampires.  From these guys – nothing.  They just kept stumbling closer, with their game faces up.  Taking aim at the lead vamp, I fired, and a wooden shard of a bullet flew from my carefully crafted weapon, causing him to explode into tiny particles.    

The three remaining vampires didn't even flinch.  They just kept on walking towards me.  So I fired again and again.  There was one left now, and the parking lot was swirling with the remains of his companions when he suddenly stopped and looked around.  He seemed confused, as if he didn't know where he was or why he was there.  He glanced at me, and I saw that he recognized me for the split second before I fired and he, too, became dust.  That was when I heard the running footsteps.

I took off after the runner.  The only thing I saw, though, was a brief flash of a dark coat before the culprit rounded a corner.  By the time I got there, a car was speeding away into the night.  

Someone had just tried to kill me.  Someone whose preferred method was death by vampire.  The charmers knew I was coming.  

tbc


	2. Part 2

Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire

Author – mahaliem

Rating – R

Summary – Xander takes on a case to save a girl. Set sometime in the future.

Disclaimer – Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon, Fox, and Mutant Enemy Productions.  

_The most astounding blueprint for destruction of an individual, I believe, is the ruination of Job.  God had his livestock stolen or burned, smote Job's home, killed his children, even slew all the servants.  But the Lord did this not in vengeance, but in response to a challenge from Satan, as a test of Job's faith.  In my opinion, herein lies the true difference between good and evil.  Evil usually has a decent reason for causing misery. (D'Hoffryn, Lord of Arashmahar)_

_                                                                        - **Good v. Evil – A Territorial Dispute?**_

****_by A. L. Harris_

Part 2

There she was – Diana, goddess of the hunt, holding sway over the world, just as Dru had said.  Of course, it was really just a plaster relief of the goddess fixed to the large wall that housed the Diana World Spa and Fitness Center.  This must have been where Dru had heard the call of the vampire charmers.  

I'd gone home the night before, done my nightly check of the barriers around my house and my weapons, and then planned out how I was going to proceed on this case.  The first item on the agenda was to figure out who these vampire charmers were.  My starting point was the spa.  

That night, I had another dream, nightmare, memory.  I was back in Sunnydale.  I knew my friends needed me.  I could hear them…hear them shouting my name, screaming my name, and then just screaming.  When I woke up, I realized that the screaming was coming from me.  It'd been a couple of months since I'd had one this bad.  This case, with Lara reminding me so much of Willow, was getting to me.    

Now as I stood outside the spa, I mentally geared myself for the prospect of having to prowl around, looking for clues in the presence of fit, sweaty women in spandex.  Yeah, my life is tough.  

The perky blonde receptionist took one look at me with my gym bag in hand, and visibly gulped.  Thanks to anti-discrimination laws, she couldn't tell me that this was a women's-only establishment.  So, she did what receptionists do all across the country when there's a situation they really don't feel like handling.  She called someone else to take care of it.  

The woman who entered a few minutes later was an Amazon.  I mean, really.  When I looked at her, I had flashbacks to childhood hours spent watching reruns of Lynda Carter in her sexy boots and gold bracelets.  The spa manager towered over me, and when she shook my hand, introducing herself as Alice Thomas, her grip was as firm as mine.  Maybe firmer.  As a precaution, I told her my name was Alex, and left off the Harris part. 

As we toured the facility, Alice graciously pointed out the various perks of the establishment, child-care, women's health, and nutrition workshops, etc. I could tell she was trying to discourage me without actually saying anything that could prompt a lawsuit.  It wasn't until after I'd spent five minutes listening to the various programs they had for post-menopausal women that she finally gave in and asked me why I was there.

"Alex, I really don't know if our establishment will suit you.  Perhaps you could tell me why you sought us out."

"Can't a guy just want to tone up?"

"Um…certainly.  But why us in particular?"

"Well, I went by a couple of other places first.  Stan's Workout Gym, Moe and Joe's Hardbody Shop, and you know who were there?"

Alice smiled, a bit curious as to what I would say.

"People exercising?"

"Not people…guys.  Big, hulky, sweaty guys who somehow remain unaware of

the thousands of brands of deodorant that exist.  Then, I pass this place, and just went 'whoa'.  And I see women coming in here.  Old, young, all shapes and sizes.  Now, tell me Miss Thomas, if you were a guy, would you want to be where there are men or ladies?"

Her smile was almost gone now, and I could see her thinking, _Here's another skeezy guy who just wants to hit on my customers_, but she just nodded politely.  

"I see.  Good point," Alice said, through tight lips.

We were done with our tour and had returned to reception, and I still hadn't found out anything.  Reaching behind the desk, Alice pulled out a brochure for the Diana World Spa and handed it to me, along with a calendar listing all of the events for the next two months.  As she turned to go, I stopped her.

"Excuse me.  Don't you have any free guest passes?  You know, so I can try it out a few times before I make a decision?"

With a slight sigh, Alice reached back once more, and found two bright pink slips that she handed to me.  I had to admire her self-control.  The urge to stomp me like a bug must have been strong.  

It was only after I was back at my workshop and looking over the calendar she'd handed me, that I realized I had my next lead.  It seems that tonight there was a meeting scheduled at the gym that I should probably check out.  The group was called 'The Erinys'.

I've never been that bright.  I didn't go to college and really never had much of a desire to better myself intellectually.  Never thought I needed all that book learning.  However, years spent around Giles and Willow had rubbed off.  Erinys were not a pro-Ireland group like I might have once thought, but were mythological creatures.  Creatures that had come into being for the purpose of punishing the wicked.  How that tied into vampire charmers, I wasn't sure.  But I was going to find out.  

- - - - - - - - 

I went back that evening.  The after-work crowd had already sweated off the day's calories, packed up their gear, and left.  The only ones who remained were the endorphin junkies, the women filing into the meeting room, and me.  No, I didn't stick out like a sore thumb.  That would've been an understatement.  A thumb that was bruised purple and swollen to twice its size was more like it.

I'd been pedaling to nowhere on an exercise bike, when I saw a middle-aged woman, still dressed in a suit from work, and with a harried air, head for the Erinys gathering.  Noting the pile of papers she had in her hand, I hopped off the equipment and managed to bump into her, sending the papers flying.  I do clumsy male extremely well.  I got a quick look at the items scattered across the floor, and, as I bent to pick them up, an eerie symbol drawn on one of the papers caught my eye.  I quickly committed it to memory, then mumbling apologies and excuses, handed all of the sheets back to the now flustered woman.  

Twenty minutes later, after doing a few more non-existent miles on the bike, I watched the last of the participants file into the room and the door shut behind them.  I got off the machine and headed towards the meeting area.  I could hear voices coming from inside, but couldn't make out the words, so I moved closer, pretending to be toweling the sweat off of myself as I listened.  Damn.  Still couldn't hear. Carefully, I eased the door open a crack, and leaned forward.  I heard the words 'power', 'justice', and 'feathering', before a hand reached down between the doorknob and my body, and quickly yanked the door shut.  

Now, I might have made a little yelp, but I definitely did not scream like a girl when it happened.  Nervously, I turned to see Alice Thomas looking down at me.  

"Oh, good," I stammered.  "I was looking for someone to spot me while I do a bit of weight lifting." 

Alice arched an eyebrow at me.  Most of the equipment was the weight resistance type, but in a mostly unused corner, stood a barbell, a rack of weight plates, and a power bench.  I was pleased to note that whoever had used the equipment last was exercising with much less weight than I usually lifted.  I added the necessary weights to the ends, then situated myself on the bench.  As I did repetitions, Alice stood behind me, her hands on the bar next to mine.   When I'd gotten to the point that my heart was pounding and sweat was pouring off, I stopped and started to sit up, but she halted me.

"Alex, you're barely breathing hard.  Why don't we get that heart of yours really pumping?"

I watched as she added a ten-pound plate to each side.  With the added twenty pounds, the sets were slower, and my arms trembled a bit as I finished. 

"I'm really impressed.  Why don't we add a bit more?"

This time, Alice added only five pounds to each side, but my muscles burned as I moved the bar off of the rack.  I bent my elbows, lowering the bar with only a slight tremor of lost control, her hands on the bar, steadying the downward journey, but as I attempted to raise my arms, she began to press down.

"Now, Alex, why don't you tell me why you're here?"

"Um, because my Mom thought she was in love, and my Dad was drunk?"

She gave a bark of a laugh, but continued to press down. 

"No, Alex.  Why are you here at the spa?"

"Because I was once overweight, and as God is my witness, I'll never be chubby again?"

"I think you can do better than that."

My arms were rapidly obtaining jello-like qualities.

"I'm here because I'm a scumbag who likes to check out women in leotards!" I shouted. 

The pressure eased up, then, and with Alice's help, the bar was placed once more on the rack.  As I lay on the bench, trying to control the aftershocks going through my muscles, my torturer casually walked away.  Turning to glance at me, she tossed a towel my way.  

"Might I suggest that you do some cool down exercises, Mr. Harris?  We wouldn't want any injuries, now would we?"

It was only after I climbed back into my car to head for home that I realized she'd called me by my last name…a name I'd never told her.

 - - - - - - - -

The next morning, I put a few hours into my new carpentry project.  An indulgent grandmother had ordered a dresser for her young granddaughter.  It seems the little girl has a thing for cats…kittens to be exact.  The woman had given me a folder full of pictures that I was to etch into the wood.  Pictures of kittens playing with yarn, and sleeping on mats, kittens chasing butterflies, and smelling flowers.  The whole thing was the visual equivalent of sucking down a handful of Pixie Stix.  Because of the nature of the project, I'd insisted that she pay me ninety percent up front.  If she backed out at the last moment, there was no way this was ever going to sell.  

When it got to be closer to lunchtime, I closed up my shop, and headed for the college campus, swinging by a local Thai restaurant first for some quality takeout.  I'd just gotten to the door of the classroom as the last student exited the lecture hall.  The professor had her back to me as I entered, and if I hadn't known any better, I would've thought that slim figure belonged to a student.   Quietly walking down the steps, past all of the rows of desks, I approached my friend and former comrade in arms.

"Who's up for some lunch?"

Fred turned then, and eyed the large bag that contained spicy goodness, and me with my hopeful expression.

"Beware of carpenters bearing gifts," she sighed.  

"Can't fool me.  That's supposed to be Greeks."

"Yes, but to build a large wooden horse strong enough to bear the weight of a number of men hiding inside, it must have required the work of skilled carpenters."

For a moment, my mind turned to what the blueprints for the Trojan horse might have looked like, but I managed to shake that image from my head.  

"What do you want, Xander?" Fred asked as she gathered up her books, notes, and purse, and headed towards her office.

"I need some help.  I saw a symbol and I was wondering if you might know what it means.  And, since the last time I saw you, you told me not to ever bother you again if I cared to continue breathing, I thought some bribery might be in order."

She was unlocking her office door now, and I waved the bag back and forth next to her, letting the odors waft around her.  Fred looked at me, and gave a girlish laugh that belied the years that had passed us both by.   

"You are so evil.  Does your girlfriend know you're evil?"

"Believe me - she knows."

Walking into her office, I was glad to see that she was taking good care of the desk I'd made for her, years earlier.  After carefully placing the plastic bag on the blotter, I pulled out several containers of food, napkins, and utensils.  Then, from my back pocket, I brought out the rendition I'd drawn of the symbol I'd seen the night before at the spa, and handed it to her.  

She studied it as she munched on vegetarian pad Thai.  When I leaned over to look at it, with a plastic fork she indicated a set of swirls to the right. 

"Now, that part means pain.  This section over here usually indicates death…and the part below it means hand."

"Oh...hand of painful death.  Sounds like fun."

Ignoring my pathetic stab at humor, she continued pointing to the drawing.  

"This is what I don't understand, though.  It means existing, but right next to it is this squiggle thing that usually means not existing."

"So, it is and it isn't?"

Fred gave a shrug of her thin shoulders, and started concentrating more on her food.  

"My guess is that it's a symbol for some sort of demon.  Of course, since there are only a couple of thousand possibilities, I don't know which one.  Where'd you find this, anyway?"

I gave her a short rundown of my recent activities.  She blinked rapidly when I got to the part about my conversation with Drusilla, but didn't comment.  One of these days, I'm going to erect a billboard that says "No longer suicidal!" so that all of my friends are reassured.  

A gleam in her eye appeared as I told her about spying on the Erinys meeting, and when I finished my entire tale, she spun in her chair and flicked on the computer.  Within minutes, she was goggling on the net.  I approached her chair to see that she had called up information about a certain Judge Feathering.  After scanning the screen, she turned to me. 

"This is it!  It has to be."

She looked at my still puzzled face.

"Don't you ever read the papers, Xander?"

I shrugged.  The answer was 'not really'.  Except for the funnies, I didn't bother.

"Judge Feathering has come under a lot of fire recently.  It seems that a lot of divorces he's presided over in the last few years have overwhelmingly favored the husbands.  Husbands who tend to have business ties to Feathering and his friends." 

"But I thought California was a community property state?"

"It is.  But, let's say that a man owns a small company when he gets married.  Afterwards, the wife and the husband work hard and soon the company grows into a corporation worth millions.  The man now divorces his wife, but since the company was property owned prior to the marriage, it's open to interpretation as to what share the wife deserves, if any." 

"Oh."

"'Oh' is right," said Fred. "But there's more.  He also tends to award custody of any children to fathers, especially if the ex-wife is a career woman and the father has a sweet, young thing willing to play house."  

I looked over her shoulder at the computer screen. The newspaper report gave us facts about the Feathering's background and a brief synopsis of the allegations against him.  About midway through the article, the name of one of the complainants popped out at me – Alice Thomas.  

"So, let's put it all together.  These charmers, also known as 'the Erinys', are planning to call up a demon to get back at people, specifically this Judge Feathering.  I bet their ex-husbands aren't too far down the list, either."

"And with the demon doing the dirty work, they don't have to worry about being charged with murder," Fred added.  She paused, looking puzzled. "I don't know how they expect to cause a bloody crime spree without raising a few eyebrows, though."

"The only question I've got is…what do they want with Lara?"

"It takes a lot of power to control a demon…and the more powerful the demon, the more power it takes.  Maybe this one takes more power than they had."  

"So…Lara was recruited to provide more strength?"

Fred nodded.  I rubbed my hands over my face.  I definitely was not charging enough for this case.  

"Okay.  My job, then, is to kill an extremely powerful demon and rescue the girl."

Glancing over at Fred, I smiled.

"Care to join me on this one?"

"No way, Xander.  It's all yours."

tbc


	3. Part 3

Xander Harris – Carpenter Extraordinaire

Author – mahaliem

Rating – R

Summary – Xander takes on a case to save a girl. Set sometime in the future.

Disclaimer – Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of Joss Whedon, Fox, and Mutant Enemy Productions.  

Thank you again to Jane Davitt and Alena for beta reading this for me.  Any errors remaining are entirely my fault.    

_Once, in an effort to exact vengeance, I did nothing.  That's right, nothing.  Instead of giving the jerk physical pain, I left him alone to focus on the fact that by his own actions, he'd lost the perfect woman.  It worked okay, he was pretty miserable, but I guess I'm old-fashioned.  Nothing says vengeance to me like streaming bloody entrails.  (Anyanka – Ex Vengence Demon)_

_                                                            - **Good v. Evil – A Territorial Dispute?**_

****_by A. L. Harris_

Part 3 

"I still don't understand why we're here," Grace Mathews stated.

We were sitting outside Judge Feathering's office, as we had been for the last two hours, and I was beginning to wonder why we were here myself.  It was getting late, so late, that the Judge's secretary, with one last glance our way and a fairly discreet call to her boss, had closed up her desk for the night, making sure that we heard the locks on all the drawers and cabinets loudly click.  Now, the only thing standing between the Judge and us was a little weasel of a clerk named Myers.  Well, Myers and a closed door.    

"We need to talk to Feathering.  If we can get him to maybe meet with the people who are appealing some of his decisions, appease them a bit, then maybe the charmers will decide that they don't need to summon a demon for justice.  If there's no need for a demon, then there's no need for Lara."

"And you truly think that would be it?  That they'd simply give her up?"

"Um…no.  But it's worth the old never-went-to-college try, isn't it?"

I hadn't mentioned Alice Thomas to Grace.  I was afraid that if I did, she'd make her way to the spa, and without any proof, because we really didn't have a shred, proceed to try to force a confession from Alice.  The gym manager was almost a foot taller, heavier, and without a doubt, stronger than my client.  Looking at Grace's quiet determination to get her sister back, I had the feeling, though, that Grace, in a catfight, might give Alice a run for her money.  And I so did not want to go there.

I'd called Grace earlier, and asked her to meet me here.  I was a carpenter, decent income, but no political clout whatsoever.  I figured that Grace's presence might at least give me a chance to talk to Judge Feathering.  Also, I figured having someone to back me up might go a long way towards convincing him I wasn't crazy when I started mentioning demons and charmers.  

Again, I looked out the window at the darkened sky.  Because of security checkpoints at the courthouse, I'd left all my weapons in my car, and I felt naked without them.  Naked in a bad way, not the 'oh good, I'm about to have sex' way.  An Evian bottle filled with holy water, some sharpened pencils, and a couple of crosses were the only items I had on me for defense.    

Finally, Myers the Weasel came out of the office, followed by an older, distinguished bearded gentlemen carrying a briefcase – Judge Feathering.  In a flash, I knew talking to him wasn't going to work.  I would like to say that it was my keen animal instinct telling me this, but more likely it was the way he sniffed as he looked at us, immediately dismissing Grace and myself as being anyone of any interest to him.

I wasn't going to let that attitude stop me, though.  In the past, I'd faced thousands of vampires, hundreds of demons, a dozen apocalypses, and two family reunions…one arrogant bastard was child's play.  

He started to walk by us, and Grace turned worried eyes to me.  As he and Myers walked down the stately hall, their footsteps echoing in the now almost empty building, I called out to them.

"What kind of wood do you want for your coffin?"

The Judge stopped, turned, and looked at me.

"If that's a threat…"

"No threat.  I'm a carpenter.  I work with wood.  Now, cherry's a nice choice. Oak. Oak is always a classic, but nothing beats the timeless elegance of mahogany. If you're not going to stop and talk to us, you should at least start thinking about how you want to be buried. Your family and loved ones will appreciate it."

Myers and Feathering slowly made their ways back to where Grace and I stood.  Drawing himself up to full height so that he could look down on me, Feathering took a deep breath, then began to question me.

"Fine.  You have my attention. What's this concerning?"

"It concerns you…and a bunch of people who you've really pissed off with some of your rulings.   They want you dead."

"I'm a judge.  Death threats are nothing new to me.  I will, however, notify security to be on the alert."

Unconcerned, he turned away and headed towards the exit, with Myers at his side.  Grace and I looked at one another and followed.  I had to make him listen.

"These aren't your ordinary angry citizens, and I don't think security is going to be able to handle it."

Myers held open the door for the judge as they left to building and walked towards the private parking lot for courthouse employees.  

"And what exactly can they not handle?  A mob of angry ex-wives writing some nasty letters, making a few obscene calls to my home?" Feathering asked.  "No…let me guess," he continued.  "They've banded together and hired a hit man."

"Close.  They're summoning a demon," I stated.

Myers and Feathering glanced at each other for a moment, before they both began chuckling.  The judge was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Demons exist.  I've seen them, fought them for years.  

I rolled up the sleeve of my left arm, exposing the scars of one of my recent battles that marred my skin.  It was mottled and raw looking and, if you studied it carefully, you could still see the imprint where several rows of sharp tiny teeth had sunk into the flesh. The judge had stopped laughing.  I had his attention now.

"Demons are real. Real enough to kill you."

Grace stepped forward, as we stood in the parking lot, adding her voice to the argument.

"Most are extremely dangerous.  More dangerous than your average vampire," she stated.

Oops.  Mentioning vampires was a mistake.  I immediately sensed Judge Feathering withdraw, his eyes becoming cold, his teeth, clenching.  Myers, on the other hand, was thoroughly amused, considering it all a joke.     

 It was then that I noticed the small gathering of women at the edge of the lot.  In the middle of the gathering were four figures with linked hands.  The tallest of the group was Alice Thomas; the smallest was Lara Matthews.  Grace let out a gasp when she saw her sister.

"Um…Judge…can I suggest that you get in your car right now, and get the hell away from here?" I said. 

Feathering and Myers looked at me, then turned their heads so that they could see the women coming towards us.  Myers began to howl.

"That's who's after us?  Those women and the kid?" Myers scoffed.

The women were chanting and getting closer.  I really wasn't liking this one bit and started backing away, grabbing Grace's hand as I went.  The judge, too, took a step back.  Myers, the idiot, actually approached them.  

"You thought we should be afraid of them?  They're nothing.  Just a bunch of pissed off women.  What can they do?" said Myers, still laughing.

His laughter suddenly became a gurgle as a seven-foot tall demon appeared in front of him.  As demons went, it had the whole huge scaly thing going, but I didn't see any fangs, claws, tentacles, or sharp appendages.  In fact, at first it seemed to have only one arm.  Then, I saw a shimmering in the air.  It did have another arm.  I could see a gleam of something going from the monster's shoulder and into the chest of a now struggling Myers.  It is and it isn't. Got it now.  

Myers was clutching at his chest, panicked, trying to remove the hand that was embedded within him.  He looked like…like he was having a heart attack.  The beast must be grabbing his heart from the inside.  The litany of 'oh, crap, oh crap, oh crap' pounded through my brain.  

Quickly, I snatched the briefcase out of the judge's hand and pushed Grace aside.  With all of my strength, I slammed the edge of the heavy leather case into the back of the demon's neck.  I pulled my arm back to do it again when the monster's other arm slammed against the side of my head and sent me sprawling to the asphalt.  I heard Alice's voice, then.

   "Let's make this one messy."

With a roar, the demon yanked its magical arm from Myers' chest.  A gleaming, still beating heart came ripping out, and bile rose in my throat.  As the dead body collapsed on the ground next to me, the demon winked out of sight.  I scanned the area as I stood, still clutching the briefcase, desperately searching for signs of the monster.  I knew it must be around somewhere, for the women were still chanting.  

The judge had run to his car and was struggling with his keys, frantically trying to get it open to escape.  Grace, however, had headed towards her sister, Lara.  Something was obviously wrong with Lara. Your average citizen would think she was on drugs.  Me, I figured that there was a spell involved.  The other women were practically dragging her along and her eyes were glazed.  Crying and begging, Grace tried to reach her, but was blocked by the women.  Some of her pleas had to be reaching Lara, though, for I saw the young girl look at her and shake her head as if waking up, then look again.  

Grace was being roughly pushed away, so I ran to help my client.  Grabbing her, trying to shield her with my body, I heard a scream.  Turning, I saw that the demon now had its hand inside of the judge's chest cavity.  As Feathering struggled, Grace continued to shout to Lara.  Calling to her, urging her to get away from the women who stood between them.    

This time, it seemed to work.  Lara shook her hand free of the woman next to her, and ran towards us.  Some of the women gasped, and I saw that the demon attacking the judge appeared to be hesitating, faltering. 

"Get the girl back here," hissed Alice to her followers.  

Lara had reached us by then, and as a few women came forward, I swung the briefcase in my hand in an effort to keep them back.  Grace was standing next to me with her fists at ready, a mother bear defending her cub, while Lara huddled between us.  

They still must have had some control of the demon, for the judge's body was now falling to the ground, and unlike Myers, with no apparent damage to him.  He would seem to be a victim of a heart attack.  Again, the demon disappeared.  

Grace and I had managed to hold off the women trying to reach Lara when Alice approached us, her eyes glittering madly.  

"Give her up, Alex.  There's too many of us.  You'll never win."

"Hey, overwhelming odds, darks forces arrayed against me…I grew up on this stuff.  Hell, I live for this."  

A dark smile flitted over Alice's face.

"And you're going to die for it, too."

This time, when the demon appeared, he was right in front of me, and it was my chest he was reaching into.  Sweet Jesus, the pain!

"You should have stayed out of it, Alex.  This wasn't your fight," sneered Alice.

Despite the agony, I did my best to glare at her.  Through gritted teeth, I snarled.

"Everything is my fight."

With a cry of rage, I once again swung the briefcase.  Not at the demon squeezing my heart, but towards Alice.  I let it fly through the air.  It was a glancing blow; aim was a bit off, circumstances being what they were.  But it did what it had to do.  It broke her concentration.  It broke her control of the demon.  

The pain in my chest eased then, and I almost passed out as blood rushed through my system.  I looked up at the demon's face to see what could only be a grateful smile from the creature.  It was a smile that would haunt me for weeks.  Then he disappeared, only to reappear seconds later with his hand inside of Alice.  The woman only had time to let out a short exclamation of pain, before he ripped her insides out.

Grace was holding Lara, tears in her eyes, and she began to reach out to me, to thank me.  I stopped her.

"Go!  Now!"  

She looked at me in confusion.  I turned to glance back over my shoulder where the demon was already working on another woman.  Blood was flowing in streams around it. 

"He'll be after Lara, too!  Anyone that controlled him. Get her out of here!"

Her eyes widened in sudden frightened comprehension.  I pushed her and her sister towards the other lot, where her car was parked.

"But where should we go?  Where will we be safe?"

There was a shaman on Lincoln Way, but he was more the 'Go, Evil' type, so he couldn't be trusted.  A trio of witches lived together in a house only a few miles away, but they weren't very powerful.  They mostly did spells to make freckles, scars, and warts disappear – my girlfriend referred to them as 'Compound W. I. T. C. H'.  That wouldn't work.  Lara was going to need some real firepower to protect her.  

"Devon.  England.  Witches…powerful witches are there.  They should be able to help."

I stayed and watched as her car sped off, away from the destruction.  Around me, the remaining women of the Erinys group were scattering, running to hide from the vengeance they'd called forth.  Within minutes, I was the only thing still living in the parking lot.  Many women had escaped…for the time being.  I knew that the demon would hunt them down, kill them for daring to enslave him.  I hoped Grace and Lara made it to Devon in time.  I didn't pray.  I'd given up on prayer a long time ago.    

So, I stood there, alone, the darkness of the night enfolding me while the stars mocked me with their distant light. Once again, I was a survivor in a battlefield littered with broken bleeding bodies.  

- - - - - - - - 

It was almost afternoon by the time I managed to drag my ass out of bed the next day.  My girlfriend was flying back after her meetings in St. Louis and Chicago, and I needed to pick her up.  Hell, I needed her now.  Needed her with me, holding me, making me feel that life was worth living, that the fight was worth fighting.  

I still had a few hours to spare before she arrived, though, so I spent some of that time searching the Internet for an old-fashioned doll, one dressed in silks and petticoats, with ribbons in her hair.  When I managed to find one fairly close to that description, I ordered it, making sure it was sent Federal Express to Drusilla.  She'd helped me out, and I wanted to do something nice for her.  Since I didn't feel the desire to bare my neck, I decided that this was the next best thing.  Afterwards, I showered, dressed, cleaned up the house a bit, and then headed towards the airport.  

As the passengers disembarked the plane from Chicago, I waited for my girlfriend, flowers in hand, a big smile on my face.  She'd told me that I really didn't have to drop her off and pick her up at the airport for her frequent business trips, but I never listened.  I loved her.  Completely, desperately, drowning in it, and by God, I was going to show her, even if it occasionally irked the hell out of her.  I'd almost lost her once before, and it wasn't going to happen again.  I'm not a genius, but I knew if she ever came to her senses and dumped me, I'd die.  Not in the curl up and die way, either.  More likely in a loud, flashy, explosion.

She came through the gate, and her eyes found me and a smile lit her face.  She kissed and hugged me, then accepted the flowers with a questioning arch of an eyebrow.  It was only after we'd retrieved her luggage, stowed it in the trunk of the car, and were driving away, that she spoke.

"Xander, tell me about your week," said Dawn.

 The End


End file.
